When Silence Remains
by janessawelch22
Summary: A small Colorado mountain road is encompassed by an old ghost story. A hunter from their past is in need of help and calls Sam and Dean to assist. A powerful group of entities have targeted the Winchesters and are out for blood. Tragedy strikes and lives are lost. The boys are up against something they have never been up before. Will they survive?


"Dean! Hold on!" Sam screamed from behind the wheel of the Impala. The dark trees lined the two-lane road like a thick canopy blocking any chance of moonlight. The only thing that pierced the darkness was the light from the headlights. Blood gushed from the gaping wound in Dean's chest. Sam could hear him in the back seat gasping for air. "I'm not gonna make it Sammy. Just pull over." Dean said faintly. "Damn it, Dean! You have to keep fighting! Don't give up!" As Sam drove down the winding mountain road, he desperately pushed the Impala as fast as she could go. Dean started coughing as blood trickled down his chin, he asked through bloody gasps, "Is she still... following us?" "I don't know, I don't think so." Sam said while he scanned the rearview mirror. "Shit!" Sam yelled as he slammed on his breaks. There she stood.

"Boys, you know it's rude to leave without asking for permission. It's bad manners." She said as a sadistic grin spread across her face. "I wasn't finished." She moved slowly towards the car stretched out her hand and swirled it into a fist causing the Impala to stall. Sam was slammed into the back of his seat, and with every step she took, the pain seared through his body. Sam felt his muscles become rigid causing him to panic, realizing he was unable to resist her he tried to scream from the pain, but was constricted and unable to. Struggling to breathe, Dean saw the pain on Sam's face and tried to reach for him. Slowly slipping into unconsciousness, and Sam just a fingertips length away, the only thing left was to call out his name.

"Sammy... Sammy..."

**24 hours earlier**

"You haven't given me anything Dean that proves this is our kind of thing. If you would just pull your head out of your ass and tell me what's going on, I can call Charlie and have her dig deeper so we know exactly what we're dealing with."

"Oh please, I did my digging Sam. I know what we're dealing with."

"Oh yeah? What is it exactly?"

"I guess it's for me to know, and you to find out." Dean smirked walking out of the hotel door. Sam's eyebrow furrowed in frustration. He and Dean had gotten into a scuffle a few days ago over a woman they had met in a local bar. They were both convinced the other person cockblocked them from getting with this girl. Neither one of them let it go. Sam threw his bag into the back of the Impala and slammed the trunk shut.

"Sam, I swear to God, slam the trunk one more time, and I will end you."

Sam got into the car and shut the car door. "Could we just go, please? We've wasted enough time this morning." Dean blankly stared at him as he started the Impala. "Just get the map out so we know where we're going."

Sam annoyingly opened the glove box and sorted through the stack of maps. "Wyoming, Montana, Illinois, South Dakota. Okay, here we are. Deadwood, South Dakota. And we need to go where?" Sam inquired.

"Silver Plume, Colorado."

Dean's stereo was blaring Metallica as the cool, crisp mountain air passed over his arm that was sitting on the window.

"So, can I get at least a little bit of information about what we are going to hunt? How did you hear about this case?" Sam asked.

"Well, you remember that hunter that we met at the Roadhouse a few years ago?"

"There's a lot of hunters we met at the Roadhouse, Dean. Can you be more specific?"

"Derek."

"Oh, come on, the newbie? The guy who was drooling all over you begging for tips on how to be a better hunter? That Derek?"

"Yes Sam, that Derek. That was a few years ago, he's a lot better than he used to be."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Alright, whatever. What about him?"

"Well, he called me last night saying he has a case up here in Silver Plume and he needs help."

"Okay, what did he say was going on?"

"There's an old ghost story that circulates the town about this guy named Clifford Griffon who lived back in the late 1800's. He was a miner. Well, he was engaged to this chick that he found dead on the night of their wedding. He was getting accused of being the murderer, so he moved out West to start a new life. Each night, he would stand up on this cliff near the town and play his violin in memory of his fiancé and drink a bottle of whiskey. They say that one night the townspeople heard him play the same song, followed by a gunshot. They found him the next morning with a bullet to the chest."

"Okay, so we're dealing with a pissed off spirit? Derek couldn't figure out how to manage a simple haunting?"

"No, he's not that incompetent. He did at first, but the lore doesn't add up to the bodies they found. There have been stories coming from this town that every 10 years, 5 young men end up missing and at the bottom of this cliff. Each of the bodies though, have their throat's ripped open and all of their blood drained."

"So... a vampire inspired by a ghost story?"

Dean sighed, "Dude, when is the last time you heard of a vamp completely draining their victim of all of their blood?"

"Okay, fine. You're right. This one is a little weird for it just being from common lore."

"I know how to do my damn job, Sam."

"Well, I guess we'll find out, won't we?" said Sam spitefully.

Dean turned into the town of Silver Plum. The sun was setting and orange rays kissed the tips of the mountain tops. As they turned on the dirt road, both brothers felt that the streets were eerily quiet. A slight wind blew tumbleweeds across the road. This was a town of rugged buildings and empty streets, with only one lamp to light the main road. A chill ran down Sam's spine as they drove. They saw Derek sitting in front of the old General Store.

"Derek," said Dean "How's it going?" as he shook his hand.

"Sam, Dean, thanks so much for coming. I really appreciate it."

"Sure, no problem. Can you tell us how many victims there's been already?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, there's been three people found at the bottom of the cliff. According to the pattern, we don't have a lot of time before the next two are found dead, drained of their blood."

"Okay, have you talked to the locals? Do they have any idea what's going on?" Sam said while scanning the town.

"No one will talk to me. They keep telling me I'm pursuing a dangerous road here. Here's the other strange thing, all of these deaths are happening at night, and it's not anyone from the town. They're all tourists who are ending up down there."

"Well, we should find a place to crash. Where's the nearest motel?" asked Dean.

"There's only one, it's the Windsor Hotel. Nice and creepy. It matches the rest of the town." Derek said jokingly.

"Alright, we'll go grab a room, and then we'll meet up and come up with a game plan. Where's the closest bar?"

"Just a few minutes from here."

"Okay, we'll meet you there."

Sam and Dean with duffle bags in hand, headed for the front door of the Windsor Hotel. The wooden steps creaked as the boys climbed the stairs, Dean reached for the door handle and turned it; it didn't budge. Sam looked on in amusement as he watched his older brother try again. Dean shook the handle once more nearly splitting the wood surrounding it.

"Need help?" asked Sam.

Dean stared at him, head cocked to the side. "No, I don't need your... Shut up."

Determined to prove his brother wrong, Dean put his shoulder into the door. It opened with a loud pop. He smiled smugly at Sam as he passed into hotel lobby. They were quickly hit with old floral wallpaper, and a strange stench. Dean leaned over to Sam and whispered, "Is it just me or does it smell like a dead possum and cheap cigars?"

"Dean. Stop." Sam said quickly as he motioned towards the woman standing behind the check-in desk smoking a cigarette.

She had mousey brown hair with wisps of grey pulled to a pile on top of her head. It was apparent she had just worked a long shift, she tried desperately to stand straight but would soon wince and lean over the desk. She weakly lifted a lipstick stained cigarette to her lips blowing out another cloud of nauseating smoke. Her nametag with the faintly printed name "Betsy" was hanging crooked off her blouse. She took a raspy breath.

"Welcome to the Historic Windsor Hotel B&B, how may I help you?" She said in a low raggedy Boston accent.

"B&B?" Dean asked confused as swirls of grey smoke circled her fingers.

"Bed and breakfast."

"Breakfast? Now that's what I'm talking about."

Sam shook his head, "We would like a room with two queens please." He noticed the red faded "NO SMOKING" sign on the wall. She noticed his gaze had fallen onto the sign behind her then huffed as she put out her cigarette.

"I'm sorry to inform you, but the only thing that's available is our room with the single queen size bed."

"Room?" asked Dean.

"Yup. You two are in luck since this is our last available room." She said in her gruff monotone voice.

"Okay, I guess that will have to do." Replied Sam.

"Fantastic. Will that be cash or credit?"

"Guess your ass is sleeping on the floor Sammy!" Chuckled Dean.

Sam ignored Dean's comment as he pulled out his credit card and handed it to her. She swiped it and handed Sam an old metal key, "You two will be in room 4, that's up the stairs to the right. Sorry about the tight space. Enjoy your stay."

Sam politely grinned and turned towards the stairs, the stench that they picked up before was growing stronger as they climbed to the second floor. The horrible flower wallpaper continued to every corner of the house.

"Wow, Derek wasn't joking about this place." Stated Dean.

"Yeah, no kidding. All the way down to the varnished brass." Sam said as he pointed to their room number. They opened the door and threw their bags in. The room was a dull pink, continuing in the nauseating floral wallpaper, and a bed made up of a dull navy-blue comforter and eggshell white pillows. Sam looked at the lumpy bed, down to the floor, and back to the bed.

"You know, for once, I would be glad to give you the bed." Grinned Sam.

Dean rolled his eyes, "Shut up, Sam."

"Come on, we told Derek we'd meet him at the bar." Said Sam.

Sam and Dean briskly walked into the dimly lit biker bar, big burly men with long handlebar mustaches and beards crowded the room. Dean quickly scanned the room before spotting Derek standing at the edge of the old wooden bar. A very tall, attractive woman kept him company as she hung on to his every word. Derek spotted Sam and Dean standing near the entrance and waved them over. The woman noticed the two large men moving towards them, and whispered into Derek's ear. Her hand lingered on his arm as she quickly walked away disappearing into the sea of bikers.

"Derek! You sly dog!" Dean said overly impressed by Derek's new long-legged friend.

"Yeah, good thing she saw me before you two came in, I wouldn't have had a chance." Derek chuckled.

"Well," Sam quickly said clearing his throat. "I think we need to focus on what's going on. Three down, two to go. We know that it's not a spirit or a vampire, do you have any other ideas on what we could rule out?"

"No, I'm stumped. I've gone through everything that I can think of and the lore just doesn't match up."

"What about outside the local lore? We've encountered outliers much older and more powerful than simple town lore's."

"I didn't really think about that. Look at that, been a hunter for a few years and I still get the opportunity to learn from the best!"

Sam clenched his jaw and continued. "Okay well, I'm going to see what I can find out in Dad's journal and call Charlie, see what she can dig up."

"Woah, Sammy. We just got here. Now who wants a beer?" Dean asked while motioning to the bartender.

"Uh, I'm good. You two have fun. I'll catch up with you later." Sam whisked his hair behind his ears and moved toward the exit.

"Hold up Sam, I'll come with. This is my case, I should be helping." Derek looked at Dean and signaling him to follow.

"Damn it." He muttered moving past Sam. "There better be a minibar in the room."

They walked outside into the cool mountain air, the faint reflection of the moon sat on the hood of Baby, and the sound of wind chimes off in the distance blended into the darkness. The gravel in the parking lot crunched under their feet as they walked closer to the impala. Other than the muffled voices and the music coming from the bar, the town was eerily quiet, more so that it was before.

"Does this town feel… I don't know… off to you?" Asked Sam.

"Like what? Sam, we hunt in creepy towns all the time." Dean said as he opened the door of the Impala and climbed in.

Sam, leaning against the side of the car, scanned the empty streets, and watched the line of trees for any sign of movement.

"Sam let's go! I've got a minibar to raid and pay-per-porn to catch up on."

Sam reluctantly got into the car and shut the door. Still feeling a pit in his stomach, his eyes were pulled to the trees. They drove off towards the hotel with Derek close behind them.

Sam and Derek sat at the old metal table near the hotel door. Searching the internet for articles, news reports, and century old lore, Sam and Derek scanned each line in hopes of finding a new lead. Dean laid on the bed, John's journal rested in his right hand while he slowly leafed through each page. Having looked through his father's scratchy handwriting, mythical symbols, and secret codes hundreds of times it seemed that there wasn't anything to be found. Yet he still sank into his father's notes one more time searching for anything to lead them further in the case.

"I'm stuck on what to look for. Can you give us anything other than the fact that this thing drains the victim of their blood?"

"I wish I could. Why do you think I called you Dean? This job is obviously above my pay-grade." Shrugged Derek.

"Okay well, let's start with what we know. Whatever this is, we do know that it completely drains its victims. So maybe we should just start with what likes the taste of blood. Vamps are already ruled out because they don't drain their victims."

"Well, there's Chupacabras." Derek replied.

"They don't usually drink humans dry. Chupacabra in Spanish means "goat sucker", however there have been stories about other smaller animals like dogs, cats, and rabbits found drained of their blood, but not humans." Sam said matter of factly. "Dean, I vaguely remember an entry in dad's journal of him coming across a monster who is vampirical in nature but not necessarily a vamp."

"Uh… Oh yeah, right here. A bao… baobhan sith? Dad describes it as a fairy who is a cross between a vamp and a succubus."

"Succubus? As in the demon?"

"I'm assuming so."

"Okay well check this out. According to Scottish lore, the Baobhan Sith appears at night, luring men to seduce them, rip their throats out and drink their blood. Oh, but they come out once a year to feed. That doesn't match up with the timeline. Okay, anything else?"

"Well, is there any way that this thing could be acting out of its normal cycle?"

The steady glow of the moon that cascaded into the hotel room began to fade the quicker midnight approached. An eerie darkness crept into every corner. Sam quickly jumped out of his seat and hurried to the window. "I think this whole town is acting out of its normal cycle. I just don't get it…. I…." Sam trailed off as his eyes began to blur. He rubbed his hand up and down his face as he felt his legs start to weaken underneath him. He frantically moved towards his chair before losing consciousness. "Dean… Derek?" Sam noticed Dean was already passed out on the bed, John's journal had slipped down and was barely hanging on to Dean's torso. Derek was standing, looking blankly out into the darkness that fell outside of their hotel window. "Derek?" Sam weakly asked as he desperately tried to stay alert before the blackness of his consciousness overtook him. The faint sound of a violin playing its haunted melancholy melody echoed through the small mountain town. Derek without hesitation turned and hastily moved towards the door. Sam weakly watched as Derek began to disintegrate into a dark blur before he disappeared through the door.

"SAM!"

Sam was abruptly awoken by Dean backhanding him into consciousness. He frantically stood up and moved around the room. The early morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, his neck ached from the angle that he was sitting in after passing out. He looked at his watch. _9:00 A.M._ He gave his brother a look of concern remembering what had happened last night.

"Where's Derek?" demanded Sam.

"How the hell am I supposed to know? I'm still trying to figure out what happened last night.

Maybe he went back to his room."

"What? No, Dean you don't understand. Derek was just standing there, and he opened the door and just left!"

"So, what?"

"He had this look on his face Dean, like he had been hexed, in a deep trance, or something…I don't know!"

Sam picked up Dean's phone from the night stand and dialed Derek's number. Silence.

" _You have reached Derek, I'm not available to pick up the phone. If this is regarding a case, describe your situation, your name, and your number, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."_

"Voicemail." Sam said closing his eyes in frustration.

"Alright Sammy, just calm down. Let's go get a cup of coffee and see if we can find him." Dean grabbed his phone from Sam's hands, his jacket, and left the room. Sam swiftly followed and walked down the hall to Derek's room as Dean went down to talk to the front desk.

Sam carefully knocked. "Derek?" No response. Sam reached into his back pocket and retrieved his lock-picking tools. He spent a few minutes jiggling the door open. Empty. Derek's bed was still neatly made from housekeeping making it the day before. His toiletries neatly laid out on the bathroom sink. "Damn it." Sam shuffled down the stairs as quickly as he could and found Dean standing near the bottom of the staircase.

"He's not in his room and everything is laid out, ready for a new guest to arrive. It's like he never even checked into his hotel room. What did you find out?"

"Well Smokey the friendly front desk lady hasn't seen him. They close and lock the doors at 10:00 P.M. each night so no one was down here when he left. His car is gone. So, he definitely isn't here."

Sam sighed in defeat.

"I dunno Sam, I'm not too concerned about it. Maybe he got a text from that hot chick he met at the bar and had a late-night rendezvous." Dean said as he looked over at the breakfast room in disappointment. "Man, the only thing they have over there are whole wheat muffins and Cheerios. She really upsold that way too much. Breakfast just isn't breakfast without bacon…"

"Dean." Sam said in annoyance.

"… Eggs, maybe some hash browns, you know waffles would be a good touch…"

"Really Dean? Derek is missing and all you can think is your stomach?"

"Woah, easy there Sammy. Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the chair. Are we gunna talk about what's been eating you? Are you still pissed about that girl from Deadwood?"

Sam gruffly pushed his hair out of his face. "Shut the hell up Dean. Let's go."

Sam shoved the front door of the hotel open into the warm summer Sun, he walked down the steps to where Derek's car was parked. Sam noticed something black laying on the ground, he quickly picked it up and discovered his damaged wallet from being dropped and driven over.

"Dean, suit up. We gotta find him."

"Sammy, you don't even like the guy. What is making you so gung ho on finding him?"

Sam stood there with his eyes locked on the little pieces of gravel around Dean's boots. His throat tightened as he tried to keep his feelings of pure anger from lashing out.

"Every damn person that we meet, everyone we have any kind of relationship with gets hurt. Look at the body count we've racked up so far. Mom, Dad, Jess, Jo and Ellen, Bobby…" he stopped as he fought back tears from pooling in his eyes. "Look how many hunters have been directly attacked because of us. I just don't know if I could take one more person getting hurt because of us. So yeah, I'm damned determined to find him. As you should be to."

Dean stood there silently formulating the right words to say. "We didn't force any of them into this life. I didn't ask Derek to come here and to hunt this thing. He made that decision on his own. You can't keep those notches on your bedpost Sam. It will eat you alive."

"Right, because you don't drown your guilt with a bottle of whiskey every single day."

"Medicating. We each gotta find our way through the bullshit, don't we?"

"Derek wouldn't have been here if you hadn't encouraged him to go hunt that Rugaru back then when you met him at the roadhouse. His blood is your hands Dean."

"We don't even know what happened to him. Let's go put on our FBI threads and go do our job. We will find Derek, and then we will go hunt down the son of a bitch that's been screwing with this town."

Sam and Dean pulled back up to the biker bar they went to last night and walked inside. There were a handful of bikers standing on the far side of the bar as their deep laughs echoed. The brothers reached the bartender and simultaneously pulled out their badges.

"Good morning, I'm Special Agent Tyler, this is my partner Special Agent Young. We'd like to ask you a few questions." Dean recited as second nature from how many times he's said it before.

"Aren't you the guys from last night? You were with that fella with the hot little number on his arm."

"That's right."

"Ya don't blend easily here, with how small this town is, it's ain't hard to pick out the outsiders." The bartender turned his head and spit out a large red glob mixture of saliva and chew into a bucket beneath the bar. Dean grimaced as he stared at the saliva trail that ran down his beard.

"Right." Sam cleared his throat. "Anyway, speaking of the man that was here last night, he went missing sometime around midnight and we aren't able to get ahold of him. He didn't happen to come back in, did he?"

The boys watched as the bartender immediately became uneasy at the question. "I don't want any trouble around here. He ain't here, I ain't seen him since last night. That's all I know."

"What about the violin? Can you give us more information on that?" Sam asked continuing the line of questioning. The bar tender suddenly became rigid, his face turned stone cold as his eyebrows began to furrow.

"I ain't tell you boys no more. If you had any sense in ya, you'd turn around and get the hell outta dodge and not turn back."

Dean leaned in close and gruffly replied, "You can't scare us out of town that easily. Now answer the damn question or I'll take you in for impeding an FBI investigation."

"Then handcuff me, you ain't gettin' another piece of information outta me." Barked the burly bartender.

Dean grabbed the bottom of his beard and wrenched his face towards the bar. His cheek made contact with the edge of the wood with a loud thud. The three other bikers started charging towards them but was met with the barrel of Dean's gun.

"Back off!"

"The cliff." The bartender said wiping the blood that ran down his face. "Find the cliff. All you need to know is up there."

"See? That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Smirked Dean.

"Dean. Enough." Sam said pulling his brother behind him. "Could you point us in the right direction?"

"Down main street. Across the highway, there's a road up the mountain, Sliver Creek Road. Drive until you see it."

"How far up the canyon is it?"

"You'll know when ya see it." The bartender said grabbing a rag and holding it on the laceration on his face, "Now get the hell outta my bar."

Sam gave a side grin and nodded as they turned to leave the bar. Dean pulled out his wallet and threw down a twenty-dollar bill in front of the bar tender.

"That's for the face…might want to get that checked out." He said with a slight smile.

As they walked towards the car, the music coming from the bar started to fade. The trees swayed back and forth in the soft breeze. The sun danced through the leaves and sent beams through the branches illuminating the ground below. Sam had noticed the difference in this town. It was a peaceful, bright, little town. Not the dark and menacing town that he had felt the night before. He was confused and yet determined to finish the job. They shut the doors to the impala almost at the same time. From the many cases, they had and jumping into the impala not truly knowing what they were headed towards, they had a rhythm now even down to the doors of the impala. But for Sam this time was different, but he could not figure out why.

The car ride was silent. No talking. No music. Nothing. The silence was becoming deafening.

"Dean…We have to talk about what happened at the bar."

"Why? I was just screwing around with him, it's not like he's that hurt. I've done worse to asshole bar tenders." Said Dean shrugging.

"No, I meant the other bar…with that girl."

"Oh…nah…we don't have to talk about that. It's not a big deal."

"Dean, you have to stop this. Shrugging all of our problems off, never fixing them, never wanting to talk about it. This dumb girl is affecting how we are working this case and we need to find Derek and whatever took him."

"Oh, so this is about finding Derek not about you and me?" Said Dean while turning towards Sam.

The wheels of the impala screeched as Dean realized he was driving out of his lane.

"Dude! Watch the road!" Yelled Sam.

"I got it, I got it. We're fine. See?"

"No Dean we are not fine…and this is not about just finding Derek. I just can't believe that we are fighting over a stupid girl. That's all."

Silence then filled the impala again.

"Sam, look—"

"What Dean…"

"No Sam, look." He said while pointing towards the trees. A great white rock cliff jutted out from behind the canopy of trees, the sheer size was overwhelming. Long streaks of red and maroon covered the face of the cliff, almost as if the rocks where crying.

"Is that…. Blood?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"I sure as hell hope not." His brother replied.

They parked the impala on a dirt shoulder by the side of the winding mountain road and opened the weapons trunk. The Chinese star shimmered in the Sun and caught Dean's eye. Sam saw his line of sight.

"Dean. No."

"But we've never used it before. Might come in handy." Dean argued as Sam continued to shake his head. He rolled his eyes. "Fine."

They quickly took inventory of what they had and began to fill their gear bag. Iron, silver bullets, holy water, a machete, and a wooden stake were the weapons of choice because of the uncertainty that lied before them. Dean grabbed the flare gun.

"Dean, what do we need a flare gun for?"

"Do I need to remind you of Black Water Ridge? Where was the last Wendigo we came across? In Colorado."

With guns in hand, they split up and searched through the woods, looking for anything suspicious. Sam while searching the woods suddenly had a feeling, remembering the eeriness of the night before. Unsteady, dizzy, and nauseous, the darkness and dread has begun to set in.

"SAM!" Screamed Dean.

Sam came running through the trees following the sound of Dean's voice. Dean was kneeling on the ground in front of a body. Sam could see the legs and feet of a man. He stopped.

Dean turned around and sullenly looked at his looked at his brother.

It was Derek.


End file.
